


Never Meant

by metal_dragon



Category: Boruto: Naruto Next Generations, Naruto
Genre: Boruto Gaara is a sad lonely old man, Depression, F/M, I am projecting., M/M, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-24
Updated: 2020-09-24
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:15:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26627359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/metal_dragon/pseuds/metal_dragon
Summary: Gaara leads a mundane, routine life as the Kazekage. He spends his time engaged in escapist fantasizing. That blonde idiot he's had a crush on for 20 years comes by along with his wife for a diplomatic visit. Will he ever be able to confess his feelings? The answer is...
Relationships: Gaara & Uzumaki Naruto, Gaara/Uzumaki Naruto, Hyuuga Hinata & Uzumaki Naruto, Hyuuga Hinata/Uzumaki Naruto
Comments: 6
Kudos: 33





	Never Meant

**Author's Note:**

> I'm a huge sucker for unrequited romance and depressing crap in general. Why am I like this, you ask?
> 
> h

The days flowed by, one by one, spilling into the abyss of yesterday like a river draining into the ocean. It was full of mundanity and busying, a stack of paperwork here and a meeting there. The only ally he had was the blessed hands of the clocks that hung in every room of the building, each tick bringing him closer to the temporary respite of a night’s rest. And sometimes the world was so unkind as to deny him even that simple pleasure.

Although he was quite used to it, he would still sometimes be taken by surprise to learn how many weeks, months, years he’d spent repeating the same routines over and over. He'd already passed most of the typical milestones people would consider to be exciting. Anyone looking from the outside in would hold him up on a pedestal of achievement. Sure, if he went through and listed every one of his accomplishments, it would certainly seem to be an extraordinary resume. But despite that, he still – and I mean still – felt painfully, woefully inadequate.

The reasons for it all were myriad. Hypotheses included everything from an overbearing asshole of a father, the onus of responsibility being placed on him as a small child, and a healthy amount of brain-ruining trauma. Thinking about it hurt his head, so he numbed himself to it instead. How many people could laugh like madmen while recalling their most painful memories? Not many, he thought to himself.

He tossed his pen down on the desk in front of him and sighed in frustration. It was just gonna be another one of those days, huh?

As usual, he was sitting comfortably in his office, undisturbed for hours on end. Despite the fact that he preferred to be alone, he quietly wished for a glimpse of another human face. He pressed his palm against his forehead. And for them to tell him what? “Can you please sign this document for me?” “Sir, you have a meeting at 4pm.” “What about the next payment?”

It all got so suffocating. Not that he liked wallowing in self-pity, but he felt he had a right to complain to himself sometimes. He never went overboard, at least as far as he figured.

His professional, typical exterior was clearly a curtain over the core of his being, something so foreign to the outside world that even he had trouble deciphering himself. He found himself indulging escapist fantasies all the time, his mind being a veritable personalized cinema screening all the best movies where he would imagine himself as a beloved warrior-poet of the people. Or sometimes he’d indulge in pathetic romanticizations, silly crap that would make even Fabio readers turn their noses up. But he couldn’t help himself from wanting it sometimes. Curiosity had a stronger grasp on him than he cared to acknowledge.

He often caught himself staring at other people just a little too long, wondering what they would appreciate in a partner. Would he be able to satisfy them? He tried to count what positive traits he might’ve had, but the list wasn’t very long. He was… diligent? Maybe. He felt like he was a slacker despite the fact that he never missed deadlines. He was serious, he supposed. Although most people wouldn’t really consider that to be a good thing, not people he wanted to be around anyways. Quiet contemplation always led back to the same answer for him. He was not particularly pleasant, and his personality was not enough to make up for all the other flaws he had.

Well then.

It always came back to the same shit over and over again. Despite his 32 years he never felt much older than 12, stuck in arrested development but still aging. If only he could be immortal… so he would be stuck in this boring hope-by-a-thread life forever.

Never mind. He didn’t want to be immortal.

With a loud sigh, he picked his pen back up and continued writing. Just because his brain wanted to torture him more, he thought of the chances he missed.

The chances to say “I love you.”

He laughed at himself. It would never have worked out. They lived thousands of miles apart in the first place. It was generous enough to assume they could be compatible. But he liked thinking about it sometimes. After all these years he still had a way of pulling on his heartstrings, bringing him back to those youthful innocent years where his quiet admiration brought him back from a very dangerous place.

“Lord Kazekage, the Hokage will be here soon,” a disembodied voice echoed through the doorway across the room. He nodded instinctively, not looking up to see who was talking to him as he dipped his pen in ink to sign off some contract he barely even bothered reading.

His brain conjured up images of that blonde-haired idiot, the one he’d so pitifully fallen for. He didn’t like admitting it to himself, but when he was around his heart did it for him. That twisting, aching, yet oddly warm and sweet feeling he got when he was around was probably what people meant when they talked about love. As far as he knew, anyway. He wasn’t really sure because no one taught him what it was _supposed_ to feel like.

Speak of the devil and he doth appear.

A most welcome guest, you are cordially invited to our glorious nation, blah blah blah, all that diplomacy crap he’d been trained to parrot regurgitated from him. And him and his wife spat it right back at him with the customary bows and handshakes and everything. The little ritual complete, they sat themselves around a coffee table, a queue of attendants ensuring it all went smoothly. Cups of tea were filled to everyone’s content, cubes of sugar handed out like candy (and Gaara supposed they were).

Naruto dropped at least five into his cup. Gaara smiled, holding back a laugh. It was so him, so Naruto, to do that. The years had never and would never manage to erode his mountainous personality.

“Sooo… How have you two been?” Gaara asked, selecting that line from a list of small-talk conversation starters he’d memorized.

“It’s been really great, ya know! We just finished developing a new hospital in Konoha.” Naruto replied with pride in his voice. The hospital was directed by one of the most skilled medical ninja in the world, who also happened to be his best friend.

“Yes… Sakura Haruno is on board to be the new director. Isn’t that exciting?” Hinata followed up on him, her rising intonation at that last word indicating true sincerity.

Gaara nodded and agreed with her before stopping to take a sip of tea. It was a sip like any other if not for the fact that he took the momentary silence to ponder what was going on now.

His wife, Hinata, was a lovely and intelligent woman. She was in tune with everything going on in her nation, moreso than her husband, to be sure. After all, she wasn’t trapped in an office like he was. Gaara smiled graciously at her. He wasn’t jealous, he didn’t have time for petty emotions like that. But he did let himself imagine what it would be like to be her right now.

If he had Naruto’s warm love to call his own, to be able to hold him at night and drift off to sleep next to him. To enjoy the simple mundanity of the quotidian with him.

He shut his eyes and took another sip of tea. A hopeless delusion, really. Fun to indulge, but delusion nonetheless.

There was much blathering and bantering. The catching-up and political consternating and occasional joke were shot between the three of them. He didn’t care to commit any of it to memory, instead taking advantage of the gaps between conversation to study Naruto’s face. It was rare that he got to see it much, and that was probably for the best. He’d risk getting addicted somehow, already feeling rising emotional tension within just a short hour and a half or two hours in his presence.

“And Himawari just punched me right in the gut—”

“Like, pow!” Hinata finished his sentence for him.

Naruto grinned widely and nodded. “I didn’t know she was so strong! She takes after her mother.”

Gaara was just happy that Naruto found someone who made him happy. It was with no animosity that he acknowledged how well suited they were to each other. Hinata was quiet, shy, introverted, like him. But she wasn’t a depressing sack of shit, unlike him. Of course, that was the determining factor for him to shelve his fantasy of being with Naruto. He still remembered how happy he was on his wedding day.

“Thank you so much for hosting us,” they said in unison with a courteous bow.

He shook his head. “No need for thanks. The Leaf and the Sand are allies now and forever. Our doors are open for you at any time.”

Naruto admired Gaara’s quiet sincerity and politeness. Despite his stilted diplomatic language, it was apparent that he meant everything he said. He bowed one last time and took his wife’s hand into his own, leaving the room along with all the Kazekage’s attendants.

Gaara smiled and waved until everyone had exited.

And when they did, he paced back to his chair and flopped down onto it with an exasperated sigh.

Looking around at the once-again empty room, the all too familiar feeling of despair washed over his psyche like a tidal wave.

He buried his face into his hands and sobbed.

**Author's Note:**

> RIP Gaara's fragile emotional state.
> 
> This fic is probably gonna be a oneshot. I don't know how I would continue from here. Enjoy my depression fic.


End file.
